


The Day She Lost The Sun

by CrucioAndCoffee



Series: The Sun In Her Smile, If She Ever Smiled [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Death Eaters, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, bipolar!bellatrix, implied abusive bellamort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 00:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrucioAndCoffee/pseuds/CrucioAndCoffee
Summary: Isn’t that all Bellatrix is? Lord Voldemort’s most loyal, His attack dog, His puppet.





	The Day She Lost The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many headcanons about Bellatrix, in general, and her relationship with Voldemort (spoiler alert: abusive af).
> 
> You don't have to agree with me. 
> 
> Also: first time I've written a thing in present tense so I probably fucked up a bit.

She misses the feeling of Alecto’s warmth on her skin. Bellatrix misses any feeling at all; especially the softness of the Death Eater’s lips, or how silky her fingers felt tracing circles on her stomach. But it’s gone—replaced with cold, so much cold. The icy stones beneath her bare feet and body sting worse than any blade.

It isn’t clear if she died in the night or merely lost all touch with her physicality.

Bellatrix is floating in the darkness; treading its waters with difficulty, only for the lithe fingers of a dementor to grasp her and rip her down into the depths. She remembers everything she buried, and it claws at her already marked skin. One person cannot contain such horrors within themselves, yet here she is.

She’s lost count on how many weeks she stays up restless into the night, only for morning to never come. Bellatrix forgets what the sun looks like, feels like, and in the sleep-deprived delirium only sees red—turning blonde—hair with touches she desperately needs, kisses that are far off dreams.

Bellatrix misses the sun. But she threw it away for Him like she is supposed to.

The darkness wins like it always does. Her Lord made sure of that, and now the dementors finish His work for Him.

Her mind murders her ability to sleep without trying, and it leaves her invigorated. Even in the sad crushing pressure of darkness’ waters, and her cramped Azkaban cell, she finds a vein of manic energy. She’s put in chains when she is too rowdy with rage and intensity. Scars still appear like clockwork, adding to the litter of red and silver on her skin. The irons chafe her wrists, but it reminds her she’s alive. Bellatrix isn’t sure if that’s good or not.

Her Lord will return for her, but she won’t be the same. She isn’t the sad, abused little girl she was when He found her. Bellatrix is worse, yet she still thanks Him. These endless nights in her cell leaves her crying in pain and angry at everything. Trapped, like the caged animal she is.

She has a broken hand gained from months of repeatedly beating it against the stone with fury. Bellatrix will never admit it aloud, but she knows what He did. She knows what she wasted her life on. It’s unclear if it was worth it.

“He saved me,” she tells herself. It was a lie. Bellatrix is better off dead like she wished for as a teen than in his service.

Bellatrix can only hope Alecto forgives her.

But now she loses herself to the pain and manic insanity. Her Lord broke her, but His return is all she had left to look forward to. Once again He’ll save her, just to shatter her so He can rebuild her into whatever monster He needs.

Isn’t that all Bellatrix is? Lord Voldemort’s most loyal, His attack dog, His puppet.

Bellatrix wishes Azkaban kills her, and it does. She’s a shell when He finally returns, empty, ready to be filled with rage, used as his weapon.

The heartbroken expression on Alecto’s face doesn’t faze Bellatrix. Nor does the broken dullness of her once starry blue eyes. Bellatrix is merely there to do her Lord’s bidding, what more is there?

That’s the day she lost the sun. 

Bellatrix doesn’t miss it. She forgot its warmth years ago.


End file.
